


You and I speak the same language

by Ernmark (M_Moonshade)



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Gen, but not entirely distinct, written before Bolero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/Ernmark
Summary: Before Lovelace sacrifices her Queen, she sends Eiffel a message only he can understand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written and posted on December 13th, when all of us were still reeling from that episode. Surprisingly, I wasn't all that far off.

Here’s the thing about chess: You can only really win it if you know all the rules. And the thing about Kepler?

He’s a few gambits out of date.

Which is why he doesn’t notice when Isabelle leans over for half a second, just long enough to whisper into Eiffel’s ear: “ _There can be only one._ ”

She knows for a fact that he’ll catch the Highlander reference. The question is whether he’ll understand what it means. 

But in that last moment before Kepler’s finger squeezes the trigger, she looks into Eiffel’s eyes. And there may not be understanding there, but there’s faith. 

And that’s all she needs to put a smile on her face.

* * *

Eiffel doesn’t come back onboard the Urania until Kepler and Jacobi are both secured. And then secured again. And then secured again, just for good measure. He may be the founder of Team “What’s Wrong With Handcuffs?”, but that doesn’t mean he’s stingy about just how many handcuffs a person can wear.

If he’s honest with himself, he’ll admit that he’s stalling. He doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to see.

But Lovelace deserves better than that. So he steels himself. He pre-emptively purges the contents of his stomach so he won’t puke on her… her body. And he trudges down the long hall to the airlock.

Something’s off the moment he steps onto the other side. Because playing over the ship’s intercom is… music. Queen, of all things.

His footsteps echo the drumbeats as he hurries down the hall.

 _“Who wants to live forever?”_ Freddie Mercury croons, just as the door to the armory slides open.  _“Who wants to live forever?”_

There’s the splash of blood covering the walls and staining the floor. But Eiffel isn’t looking at that.

He’s looking at the woman sitting in the armory’s single chair, her legs kicked up, her hands tucked behind her head. Her very whole head. There isn’t a scratch on her.

“Eiffel,” she says with a sly grin. “Glad you could make it.” 


End file.
